In the rain
by OrangeRIES
Summary: Fuji is running from Tezuka. And in the midst, he ponders...


_Like the traces of his guitar_

_That linger_

_Caught between wilted sunflower petals_

_Like the trails of agony_

_That follow_

_Behind his leaden footsteps_

_Like your smile_

_That beautiful as it is_

_Strangely reflected_

_Mirrored_

_As so hidden sadness in your shattered soul._

-

-

-

" Tezuka." He said deliberately slowly, pronouncing each letter and word so evidently, it sounded though he had difficulty saying his name.

_Are you there?_

But it didn't really matter then, each step he took, his bare feet brushed against the wet ground, excruciating as it was, painfully endured. He ran by the perilously hanging rotting branches, each step accompanied by a smile, soothing and honey covered, yet each silken-laced breath, brought by broken promises that linger, caught between the edges of his mind.

" Tezuka" he repeated himself, but this time softer and faster, as he lets the word slowly fade into the hammering sheets of rain on the rusted shelters.

_You know tezuka?_

"Fuji." He heard, not so far behind. Tensing up, he quickened his pace, letting the beating of the rain drown him of his thoughts. He concentrated the road and his legs, no longer-

-Anything else.

_I love the smell after a cold February rain…_

He turned behind, his eyes catch a hazy figure in the distance, faded and dulled by the darkness like a picture turned fuzzy at the edges of surrealism. He almost smiled at the image; Tezuka was always real and existent, he was the captain, the councilor, the best student. Unlike Fuji, he was never-

-Surreal.

Fuji took a turn behind a tennis court, and sat down in the dark, willing himself to be invisible. He listened, as the rain patted down onto the streets, then a soft footstep, louder, the pausing at mid stride and Fuji held his breath.

…_The sickly glow of the street lamp at Fifth Avenue…_

And it continued, each step fading from his senses. Letting out his breath, Fuji stood up and turned to make sure he was gone, before letting his sight wander to the deserted tennis court. And memories, happy as they should have been, tore through him, like a blunt knife in an open wound.

…_The warm nights when waiting for the first snow fall…_

Tezuka and him in the courts, Tezuka and him in the lockers, Tezuka and him by the stands, Tezuka and him in the classroom, then tezuka and him-

-No longer tezuka and him.

… _The rainy days after training under the same umbrella…_

Undoing the rusty chains that locked the gates, he stepped into the courts, his fingers tightly bound onto his shirt, pressing against his palm. It seemed like forever since he last stepped into a tennis court, the net, the cemented ground, gave him familiarity like a forgotten old pillow, warmness, he vowed to forget.

…_The scent of noodles when walking past the small eatery by the florist…_

He should have left, but he could not, every part of his unconscious mind wanted to linger longer, even in the rain, despite the cold. Running his fingers onto the broken netting, he smiled, for the first time that day, his lips curled, into a clumsy, not so perfect grin.

So much unlike, the flawless smiles he had worn, all his life.

And it was hardly amusing- the net, that is.

_…And the old tennis court where each swing of your racket resounded into emptiness…._

Squatting down by the net, he watched the fall of the rain trickle down onto the worn netting, perhaps like him; it could no longer stand strong in its surroundings. And as he glanced at the desolate tennis ball by the foot of the net he felt a pang of longing, and Fuji, wanted so much, to say-

" Tezuka…" he muttered, letting the bitterness in his mouth, wash over his articulation. Then slowly, but surely, letting the word fade into finality.

_Tezuka did you know?_

Rain blended with tears and hidden them as they rolled down his pale cheeks, Fuji felt for once, like that vulnerable kid lost without any idea on where he was going. His heart clenched and struggled, like a bound beast in chains, each other movement, pulling itself deeper into that hazy darkness of Tezuka.

And Fuji was dragged along, helplessly.

_Tezuka would you know?_

Then came a footstep by the side

And a shadow at the end

A familiar presence

_That I had…_

Glancing up, he saw, the brown haired boy standing at the entrance of the courts. His hair matted, his shirt drenched, his spectacles frosted, but a smile, crookedly misplaced, adorned his face like a priceless crown.

" Tezuka?"

" Fuji."

_…Fallen helplessly in love with you._

_----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------_

_disclaimer: Prince of tennis aint mine._

_pardon my mistakes cause my brain doesnt work quite well._

_and my first fanfiction! yay . comment are welcomed. critics too- i love critics_


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